Must. Get. Writing. Something. Now.
I wish I could doodle. My mom can doodle. She’s a doodler. She does it any time she is on the phone for longer than 5 minutes.
I used to watch her do it when she was on the phone with a friend or her sister or her mom or dad or something. She would take out one of the pads of paper from by the telephone in out kitchen and sit at the table drawing nothing on that pad.
Nothing on the pad. Nothing to me, anyway. I always found it so peculiar that she never drew anything except little squiggles and lines and funny designs.
And then she would go over them like a million times so that the ink was SO dark and the lines made heavy indentations on the paper.
Her drawings usually started in the corner of the pad and branched out like vines.
Overtaking the page.
Sometimes the phone conversation was not as long as expected and she would only have a little corner frame for the piece of paper that someone would then later that week use to write a note or a list on–quite often her writing me a list of chores for that next day.
It was like my mom had her own self-designed stationary.
She never drew anything other than that.
Just doodles. And only when on the phone.
I found her doodles FASCINATING.
They were always gorgeous to me. In fact, I wished I could do that.
I secretly tried it sometimes. I always felt like I failed at it. I couldn’t do it with the mindless ease and flow that my mom could. I really had to think hard about drawing nothing.
She is such an artist. And doesn’t even know it.